Reunite and Rebuild
by xDemolitione
Summary: You soon find yourself holding a cup of too-hot coffee while sat impatiently on the train. You watch the buildings fly past you but you're not really paying attention, chewing absently on your lipring and ignoring the angry flash of your eyes in the window as you wonder what they all look like, now.
1. Your Best Shoes

Today was the day. You'd finally found them all.

Well technically they found you, but who even gives half a shit about the logistics of it? You'd all be together again in...

a quick glance at your watch

...Thirty-five minutes. Shit.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you have not been late to a social occasion yet, which means you've been on time a grand total of three times in your 17 years on Earth, and you were not going to let this one break your record, no way. You check your reflection in the mirror, straightening out your grey hooded jacket a little, pulling at your sleeves and checking you have all your normal bracelets on. You pull the small silver Cancer pendant from under your black shirt and sigh resignedly. You know this is the most presentable you can look, you even have new black jeans on and so fucking what if you cleaned your nicest red converses for this, who the fuck's going to notice that?

You debate grabbing your bag but decide against it; this is only a little trip two towns over. You grab your wallet, spare set of keys and your phone and head out the door, ignoring your mother calling after you to have fun with your friends. She doesn't know. She can't ever know.

You soon find yourself holding a cup of too-hot coffee while sat impatiently on the train. You watch the buildings fly past you but you're not really paying attention, chewing absently on your lipring and ignoring the angry flash of your eyes in the window as you wonder what they all look like, now.

Maybe the humans will look the same? You hope so, you don't think you'd be able to manage if there isn't at least one recognisable face there. The train comes to a slow stop and you reluctantly stand up, feeling your blood pulse through your veins far too quickly and your legs go hollow, thudding painfully as you step onto the platform.

You check your watch; ten minutes.

You pull up your hood to cover the fact your roots are starting to show through and sip carefully at your coffee as you make your way to the park where Sollux said everyone should meet. Most of them live around the surrounding areas and the ones that don't live nearby have phones, so everyone should be on time.

You check your watch as you near the park, one minute until you're officially late. You can hear voices as you get closer, familiar voices over the noise of passing pedestrians going about their day. It's a quiet town, and the wind carries conversations over to you as you turn the corner.

There is a small crowd of people stood there, right in the center of the park, surrounding the swingset, only about five of them now. There's alot of animated conversation going on.

You throw your now-empty coffee cup away as you pass the trash can, you can hear words, now, as opposed to just generic noise.

"Ah, there he is now." You look up. Blonde female, warm smile, black lipstick. Rose. She looks exactly the same.

"Am I late?" You ask cautiously, trying not to look around at everyone too quickly for fear of passing out.

"Precisely on time." Rose smiles, and you can tell she's just as excited as you are.

You look around, now, and are surprised to see you can tell who the ex-trolls are. Rose and Jade are there, along with Kanaya, Sollux and Tavros. Tavros has legs that work. You almost grin.

You excange 'hello's and 'how are you's with everyone there, but only Jade tries to hug you. You're glad of that. Hugs might kill you at this moment.

"Everyone elth thould be here thoon." Sollux says, his lisp still present and unwavering despite the lack of fangs to influence the noise. You stand between him and Kanaya and contemplate running for it. You're terrified. You're terrified because they didn't seem that excited to see you and you were shitting yourself the entire way here about being the best fucking Karkat they've ever seen.

You guess old habits die hard, because your scowl is back and you're staring as far and hard into the other end of the park as you can.

A honk in the distance, followed by a scream, and everyone in the current group loses their cool for a grand total of three seconds while you look over, wide eyed, to see a tall young man laughing too loudly and helping an angry looking girl off the floor.

"Gamzee!" You shout, ignoring how loud you are and how Sollux tells you to shut the fuck up, "Vriska!"

They both turn to you, then, Gamzee still holding Vriska's arm after helping her off the floor, and they break into a run towards the group.

You don't mind that Gamzee crushes the air out of you, or that once Vriska reached the group she realised she didn't really have anyone to hug, so settled for Tavros.

"How the fuck are you, motherfucker?" Gamzee asks, and you both proceed to have the lamest apology-session ever concieved, and you shoosh him, because that was in the past in a different life and you can be friends again now because seriously, it'd be stupid not to.

The rest of the trolls follow shortly, Sollux telling every one of them they're late, causing Equius to flinch slightly and apologise profusely for his behaviour, which grosses you out in the best way because they're here. They're all here.

"Where are John and Dave?" Comes a quiet voice from the other side of the mass of bodies in the small park. You see a glint of red-framed glasses and realise Terezi's looking around for them, confused. She isn't blind, now, which troubles you slightly in ways you can't explain.

"Dave texted me saying he'd be a little late, but he didn't specify why. John's probably with him." Rose calls out. You shrug your hoodie up further and tune out of the conversation, edging back out of the group to get some air because okay, you'd forgotten about those two.

About ten minutes pass before Terezi calls out a shriek of glee and you see two more people making their way over to the group. A flash of a blue hoodie on one side and the glint of mirror-shades on the other. You are not standing on your tiptoes to see and you are not disappointed when they don't see you and move into the rest of the group.

The crowd disperses, sixteen people all looking the same, four as originals and twelve without fangs or horns, and skin colours varying from your palest white to Feferi's dark skin, with almost all the colours between. You sit yourself on the back of a bench, your feet resting on the flat boards as you pull your cigarettes out of your pocket and light one, surveying the area. A few ex-trolls come over to high-five you and congratulate you on not flipping your shit. You laugh halfheartedly.

"Vantas, man, you're still short as hell."

You look up, cigarette at the side of your mouth opposite your lipring, to see large shades on an expressionless face, and you smirk.

"And you're still ugly as sin, Strider. Good job you kept the shades, I think the full impact of your face would have led to a mass-suicide in this park. They would have thought we were a cult." You say, voice calm and unwavering. You find you're better at talking this way than how you were talking to the others.

"Wow, your rudeness transcends universes, too? And what is that, eyeliner?"

You look him in the eyes, then, and you can just about see their outline underneath the partially-reflective black, and you see them widen as he meets your own, unblinking, crimson irises, ringed with dark black eyeliner.

You lower your hood and look up again, the white-blonde teen looking back at you, his smirk faltering.

"I figured you'd understand. Rudeness comes naturally when it's the best defense against assholes."

"Nice roots Vantas. I am so glad you dye your hair though, I don't think I could handle you as a blonde."

"Don't flatter yourself, that's not blonde."

Dave actually laughs, then, shoving you a little as he walks away. You pull your hood back over your near-white roots and toss away your spent cigarette, making your way after him and back towards the group.


	2. Platonic Broship

The meetings become weekly, always in the same town, all starting in the park. You get to re-know everyone. John still hugs you too much despite you telling him to get the fuck off, and Dave seems to have become more accepting of you now you have a genetic defect in common. He's almost tolerable and the two of you have taken to sitting on the bench and discussing all the ways Dave hates romcoms and all the ways he is wrong.

He's so wrong. They're so good.

It's the third meeting before you actually bother to ask him for contact details.

"My chum handle's the same, unfortunately, but gimme your phone and I'll put my number in."

You spend the evenings you aren't in the park on pesterchum, and the weekdays at school texting, waiting for the next meet-up.

\- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 22:09 -

TG: hey so what are you doing on saturday

CG: WHOA HEY, I WASN'T EXPECTING TO HEAR FROM YOU TODAY.

TG: well okay sorry ill go then

CG: WAIT, I'M SORRY.

TG: can you type in lowercase for a bit

CG: I GUESS,  
CG: SHIT.  
CG: I guess, but this feels so fucking weird.

CG: No I'm not doing anything on Saturday.

TG: you are now book your train ticket

CG: Wow, okay, what?

TG: bros out of the house for the weekend and i refuse to be sat here bored out of my skull so you're coming over

You had no choice, so you booked the train ticket for Saturday morning, and the return journey for Sunday evening. You don't complain when you have to explain to your mother that you have a friend and you're going to his for the weekend. You don't even complain when you have to get up at 5am to get the train to the city.

It's a long ride, but Dave helped with the fare so you just sit there quietly and stare out the window as the fields slowly disappear and buildings up to the sky replace them, the whole journey takes about an hour and a half and by the time you get off the train you're a little lost.

You're not tall, at all, and your grey hoodie makes you practically invisible to other passengers and you find yourself pushed and shoved almost immediately as you walk along the platform, searching for Dave. He promised he'd meet you here. What if you're at the wrong stop? You clutch your bag tightly to your chest as you push back againat the crowd threatening to trample you.

What were you thinking? You hate the city. You hate crowds. You hate people. You close your eyes just as you feel a hand grasp your arm and tug you lightly out of the stream. You look up to see shades covering half a smiling face.

"You actually rode a train for an hour and a half for me. Excuse me while I swoon." Dave says, laughing a little as he pulls you out of the busy station.

You walk to his apartment, taking the elevator up because there's like 28 fucking floors or something and he just had to live at the very top. He lets you in first, and you immediately stop mid-step as you realise you actually don't know what to do now that you're here. It's still the morning, the train ride and walking bringing the time to just gone nine.

You're tired, but you're not going to tell Dave that, it'd upset him if you just got here and went to sleep.

"You look fucking exhausted dude I'm sorry I dragged you out so early..." Dave says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder easily from his foot-and-a-quarter height advantage, "You wanna just sit and watch films for a bit? You can nap through them if you want but we're heading out later whether you're still tired or not."

"Uh, yeah, sure... I'm not that tired it's fine, films are good though?" You offer, trying not to sound like the worst guest ever.

You end up falling asleep halfway through Die Hard 2, while Dave talks and talks over the dialogue about how nobody will ever actually sit and watch these films with him because they just don't get the artistic genius or whatever, your mind is blank before you know it, warm and comfortable wrapped up in your hoodie on Dave's bright-fucking-red couch.

You're shook lightly back into the conscious world an unknown amount of time later - the film on the screen has changed, though, because you're pretty sure there were no blue opera-singing chicks in Die Hard.

You look towards the offending nudges to see Dave on the opposite end of the couch, smirking.

"Awake yet, Karkitty?" He asks, and you almost see him grin. You're curled up in a tight little ball against the arm of the couch, which is apparently funny to some people.

"What time is it?" You ask, sitting up and pretending you're not still exhausted - you're always tired these days.

"Midday, we're goin' out, come on." Dave shuts off the tv mid-film, walking out of the room before you can even straighten out your clothes.

Your trip out turned out to be a quick trip for supplies and food, followed by grabbing obscene amounts of pizza from a little faux-Italian place down the road. Dave made some decision about exactly how perfect this visit should be and you couldn't change his mind about any of it. If there was too much pizza they'd put it in the fridge, so what if you don't drink all the booze Dave's somehow bought, no biggie, Dave'll just get pissed alone during the next week. You frown at that thought but let it slide, you'll probably drink it all.

You make it back to his apartment at about 6, fully convinced that Dave had retained some of his time powers and skipped you both forwards a few hours. The sun's setting in the sky as you enter the lounge, burdened with alcohol and food and shitty films.

You start off the evening with the first Saw movie, taking one shot of whiskey every time you winced. Dave won that one, with a ratio of 1:4 on your part for being much more squeamish towards blood and wounds. Too much red for you.

By about 9pm you've ditched the drinking games, settling for just leaning on Dave's shoulder a little and swigging from the bottles. Your head's started weighing four times as much. He laughs at you, neither of you are very drunk but the whole situation right then is pretty absurd.

"Karkat... Hey, you still in there?" Dave knocks on your head and you feel the vibration of it through your skull and right down your spine.

"Whoa no no no don't even... No..." You lean back away from him, resting your head on the back of the couch and smile, "Okay that's better."

You look back to the screen as Dave gets up to put a new film in, not really paying attention until you see the title screen pop up.

"No way! No way you bought that! You're watching this willingly?!" You lean forwards, barely stopping yourself falling forwards from the momentum as you point to the open case of 10 Things I Hate About You.

"What can I say, I'm a wonderful friend." Dave says, smiling a bit too widely as he presses play. You hum in appreciation throughout the entire thing, oblivious to the boy sat beside you sneaking glances at just how happy that one simple action has made you.

You're about halfway through, where Heath Ledger is starting to realise that hey, maybe this chick isn't so bad, before you're interrupted. It's quiet at first, but a voice to the side of you stops your thoughts.

"Karkat?" Dave's talking to you, you should probably turn around, but, "Hey, Karkat..." His fingers are ghosting your jaw on the opposite side to where he is, signalling that you should probably turn around.

You give in, rolling your eyes as you turn around to see... Dave. Dave's eyes staring right into yours, not a single pair of sunglasses in sight.

"Dave?" You say, the alcohol still very much in your system and slowing your reactions slightly, "You okay?" his fingers are still there, pressing slightly, his face oddly serious compared to the smile he'd had there before, "Earth to Strider, anyone home?"

"Just shut up for a second." He says, so quietly you could barely hear him over the film, before he leans in, closing the space between you and pressing your lips together. It's gentle, less like kissing and more like when you push a couple of bits of playdough together just to see if they'll stick. You close your eyes anyway, relaxing against the touch of Dave's hand, now moved to the side of your neck. You're very aware of how drunk you both are. You don't care about the film.

Dave pushes forward once you relax, pulling you towards him and moving his hand to the back of your neck, his other hand placed awkwardly on your leg between the two of you. You lean in, reaching your arms up and around his back, digging your disappointingly blunt nails into the back of his shirt.

Oh, the damage that would have caused if you were still a troll...

He pushes you back and downwards onto the couch, his hand moving up into your hair, brushing past the areas where your horns would have been and making him pause and pull back, as if in a forgotten memory.

"I know, I'm still not used to it either." You breathe out.

"Well shit, now I don't get to rub them and see what happens."

"Shut the fuck up, Strider."

"That's more like it." Dave laughs, leaning in again and kissing you a little more forcefully now, essentially pinning you to the couch. You move your hands down his sides, pressing in at his hips and pulling him closer, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Bit eager, Vantas."

You shake your head at him, "You acting like a dickhead is unsettlingly not arousing, stop confusing my rewired brain."

"Okay then, here's a language both Karkats in there can understand." Dave says, pulling you up off the couch and fully into his lap, locking your lips together as he stands up, pulling at your hair with one hand and supporting you with the other as your hands tug at his shirt a little more desperately than before. You end up pinned against the wall as Dave removes the offending article of clothing, allowing you a view of very pale, very smooth skin over a toned, athletic build. Dave's alot more muscular than he seems with a shirt on and you gladly take in the sight, noticing a few striking scars across his chest and abdomen before his lips are at yours again, tugging your hoodie off awkwardly after alot of balancing against the wall and almost falling over.

You barely make it to his room before your clothes are off.

It's messy and unco-ordinated, both of you are very very drunk and at some points you're not sure if either of you really know what you're doing. The dark room blinding the two of you to where you are and what part of eachother you're grasping at, and you can't really think straight but you know it's too soon when it's over and two two of you collapse into a sweaty heap on Dave's bed, the film in the other room long forgotten, left to play to itself until the TV turns itself off.


	3. This Chapter Is Shorter Than Karkat

3

The first thing you are horribly aware of when you open your eyes to the blinding sunlight shining in through the curtains is your throbbing headache. It feels like someone shoved your ears full of packing peanuts and smacked you around with a sledgehammer.

The second thing you are horribly aware of is that you're naked. You look to the side, panicked, and see the other side of the bed empty, the shower running in the next room.

You sit upright, scanning the room for your clothes, peeling your body away from the sheets, breath coming in short bursts as you fight back a panic attack.

This is not how this should have happened.

You shake your head, burying your fingers in your hair and cursing to yourself, taking note of where your belongings are and how easy it would be to get them. You spot your bag by the wall, rushing over to it and pulling out your clean clothes, changing into them immediately and shoving your old ones in in their place. You know your hoodie will be out in the lounge but you don't know if you have time to find where Dave threw it.

"Fuck." You breathe. Closing your eyes. You didn't want this, not this way, not drunk and rushed and-

You stop. You try and clear your thoughts but all you can hear is the shower running. You move out into the lounge quietly, the door blissfully silent as you move to get your converses from by the couch, pulling them on and not bothering with the laces. You look around, not able to see where your hoodie is. Dave will find it. He'll bring it to the next meetup. It's fine. You'll be fine.

You move over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear against it and listening for a voice, anything. You hear nothing, just the unwavering sound of water rushing against tile.

You leave the apartment.

You run down the stairs for three levels before calling the elevator, not wanting the loud noise to alert Dave to the fact you've basically just run away from the visit you promised you'd make. He probably doesn't want to see you after that either. You barely remember what happened. Your lungs burn with the strain of breathing as you ride the elevator down to the ground level, pushing through the doors to the street.

All you know if you have to get home, and you have to get home now.


	4. In Which Karkat Is An Awful Friend

You have four missed calls and three texts by the time you get home. You ignore him for days. You don't read the texts before deleting them, not wanting to see what he's saying. You fucked up, you know you fucked up, you don't need him telling you.

Almost a week has passed since it happened. You haven't been concentrating at school. Your mother has tried talking to you, tried asking what's wrong, ever since you ran home on Sunday and ran straight up to your room, locking the door. You can't talk to her about it. You can't talk to anyone.

It's Friday night. You should be out with Sollux right now, but you're ditching his calls, too. You're sat in the middle of your bed with your head in your hands, watching your phone screen light up for the sixth time that evening, counting the rings before it's quiet again. You count the seconds before it lights up again. It was three the first time. Now you're up to eight. He's giving up.

You make it to thirty seconds, then one minute, then five minutes. He's not calling again. You breathe out a sigh of relief just as your phone lights up again, with a text this time, not a call. From Kanaya.

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you open it. You can't bring yourself to ignore Kanaya.

"Karkat, We Are All Eagerly Awaiting Your Arrival, If You Could Do Us All A Favour And Pick Up Your Phone, That Would Be Vantastic. ~Kan"

You smile a little at the pun, knowing that's the very reason she snuck it in, before tapping out a reply.

"Aha. Sorry Kanaya, can't come out tonight, I feel like shit. You guys have fun though, sorry for ignoring all the calls -Kar"

You wait, counting the seconds before you get a reply. Fourty-seven.

"I Am Very Sorry To Hear That Karkat, And Your Lack Of Capitals Surprises Me, You Must Be Very Ill. I Trust You'll Still Be At The Meetup Tomorrow? ~Kan x"

"Oh yeah, hadn't even noticed.. Yeah, I will -Kar x"

You add on the little 'x' because she did, and that's the polite thing to do when Kanaya sacrifices one of her x's for you.

She doesn't reply after that, and you feel yourself tense in frustration. The meetup. You'd almost forgotten.

A pinging noise from across the room forces you to look up sharply, hurting your neck after it being strained to look down for so long. Someone's messaged you on pesterchum.

You move over to your laptop without a second thought, instantly regretting it as the bright red text fills your screen.

\- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcingoGeneticist [CG] at 21:04 -

TG: hey

TG: do you want me to bring your hoodie down tomorrow

TG: assuming youre going that is

You stare at the screen, too afraid to message back.

TG: if youre not thats fine i can look after it til you decide you want to come out

TG: but youve been ditching everyone apparently

TG: that might be my fault

You stare again, willing yourself to type back, to apologise.

TG: i guess youre busy or something

TG: but yeah just

TG: let me know if you want your hoodie

You give in, then, fingers clacking noisily over the keys, making sure to turn caps off as you type.

CG: Uh, hey.

TG: he lives!

CG: Yeah if you could bring my hoodie that'd be great.

CG: I'll probably freeze otherwise.

TG: cool yeah i will  
TG: no sense you dying out in that park just because some asshole forgot to give your hoodie back

CG: You're not an asshole.

TG: really  
TG: cause i think feel and look like one

TG: talk to you tomorrow yeah

You pause, biting your lip.

CG: Yeah.

CG: Talk to you tomorrow, Dave.

\- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 21:28 -

You slam your laptop shut, heading to bed and feeling more numb that you've ever felt in your life.


	5. In Which Self-Loathing Is A Thing

It's fucking freezing in the park. You know that because You're sat there in just a thin - albeit long sleeved - shirt and jeans. You were hoping Dave would be early, too, but no such luck. So you get to sit on the bench and smoke your way through a ten deck in order to regulate your core body temperature.

Not to calm your nerves, or anything.

Just for the warmth of the smoke coiling its way into your lungs.

People start arriving ten minutes after you; nobody calling attention to how cold you look. You chat with Eridan for a while, which is weird but welcome, because goddamn he looks just as cold as you do and he only asks for one cigarette. You chat about how his dad won't let him get any pet fish because "a real boy should get a real pet" and you choke for a moment at the thought or Eridan being a "real boy". He's getting a dog, soon, though. Little male puppy called Buster. He seems happy about it but makes you promise to get a pet fish so he feels better.

It's pretty far into the meet when Dave arrives, walking around the corner as if he was right on time. Everyone else has been here for about an hour already and Rose is very, very angry with him for being late.

He flinches when she storms over to him, looking around at the group, "Sorry, I... I guess I don't have an excuse."

She takes him aside to tell him off, and it seems a bit weird that she's so angry about him being a little late. Part of you wishes she'd hurry up and let him give you your hoodie already - you can see it flung over his shoulder - and part of you hopes you never have to talk to him again. Maybe you could just... sneak over and grab it off him? He's used to you being an antisocial bitch so he'd probably just accept it as normal if you took it angrily and walked off. But you can't bring yourself to stand up.

"Karkat are you feelin' alright?" Eridan asks you from his place next to you on the bench, concern evident on his just-recognisable face.

You look at him, running a hand through your hair. It desperately needs re-dying. "Yeah man sorry, just completely blanked."

He seems to accept this and just rambles on a bit longer about some app he got on his iPhone earlier, and you're glad for the distraction. He moves on to telling you about a girl he met yesterday and you're actually a little surprised at how he smiles and animates his speech and talks about her as if she's literally the only person in the world. He met her in a coffee shop and they talked for hours before she gave him her number, and then they were texting all night and you can't help but think, wow, this guy has never looked so happy ever since you've known him.

You look around and the others are all smiling and laughing, too. The ex-trolls so comfortable in themselves, so happy with their new lives on this new world, and you're suddenly very much alone. You're sat with them, you're talking to them, but you're not really where they are. You miss your horns, you miss your isolation, you miss how busy and important you were in your last life, the constant danger or being found out was a huge weight on you shoulders, but it made you who you are. You were the leader with the mutant blood, and now you are neither of those things.

Who the fuck are you?

You're some pale-as-fuck human teenager with white hair and red eyes, but this defect is more common than your blood was, and Strider beat you to it anyway and made it look so much more attractive - his lightly blonde tinted hair natural and striking, making him look so normal until you reach his hellfire eyes. You have nothing to define you. You're not Nubs McShouty - you're barely even Shouty. You've become quiet in your human body and mind, shy and conflicted instead of loud and heavily stuck in denial about your ability. You're still you, but you're barely you. You're a troll trapped in a human body. You're not happy.

Then there's Dave. You thought having your best bro back in your life would fix it, change everything and make you happier with yourself, someone to rely on and mess about with, hang out and chat about bullshit with. But you fucked that up, too. The one person who made you happy with yourself and you pushed them away so hard you don't know if he'll ever come back again.

You hate the person you've become, even more than the person you used to be.

"Hey Karkat."

You look up sharply to see that Eridan's disappeared and Dave is standing in front of you. He's wearing blue jeans, which you've never seen him in before, and a red hoodie zipped all the way up. He smiles a little warily and hands you your hoodie, which you pause before taking and pull it on over your shirt. It's blissfully warm. Dave takes this as an invitation to sit with you.

Neither of you say anything, just sit in what you can only assume to be mutually awkward silence until people start announcing they have to get home. Feferi and Nepeta leave first, with Equius trailing behind them - They all live the furthest away, it'll take them about an hour to get home. Eridan leaves next, simply due to the fact he's run out of people to talk to. Sollux, Tavros and Aradia leave after that, followed by Gamzee who ruffles your hair on his way past with a "see you soon, Karbro, thanks for showing up" and you just smile and wave. The rest of them, Kanaya, Terezi and Vriska, are all stood with the other three humans, Vriska leaning heavily on John's shoulders and chucking a set of thankfully non-magical dice in the air and glaring towards you and Dave with a challenging smile. Rose calls over asking if the two of you want to join them in the coffee shop down the road for a Dungeons and Dragons session.

Dave exchanges a look with you before responding, "Nah guys we'll catch up with you a bit later, got my phone if you need me."

Rose simply shrugs and heads off with the others, Jade throwing a concerned look at you as she leaves. You pretend not to notice. You also pretend your palms aren't sweating and you don't feel dizzy, but then Dave speaks and all you can hear is his voice and white fucking noise or something as your headache threatens to split your skull.

"I'm so fucking sorry, dude."

He says it, and in your head you throw yourself at him in a hug that knocks you both off the bench, and you cry and apologise and tell him how much you missed talking to him the past week and how shitty you feel for leaving without talking to him first and ioh god you're so sorry./i

But in reality you just shift uncomfortably on the back of the bench, squeaking your shoes on the weathered wood and biting nervously at the inside of the stud currently occupying your pierced lip. You sit in silence for far too long before Dave nudges your arm with his elbow and you have to look up, but your eyes are doing that painful dry thing and you do not want to cry because you have no reason to, but he's taking his shades off and placing them down on the bench with his bag and you can feel the liquid threatening to spill out. You swipe your now-covered hands over your face in a faux-yawning gesture, rubbing at your eyes in what you hope to be a convincing way.

"Karkat if you could talk to me that'd be awesome, you literally haven't said a word since I got here man and that's unsettling." Dave says, the concern overlaying the playful sarcasm in his voice. You look at him.

"That's not how I wanted that to happen." You force out, "But that's not your fault and I shouldn't have ignored you. It was shit of me."

You don't outright apologise but he can hear it in your voice. You don't need to say it for it to be true.

"I'm such a shit friend." He laughs, then, and the sound is abrupt and wavering and he covers his face in his hands, and soon you're laughing too because this is such a shit situation.

"iYou're/i a shit friend? Who ran out of who's house again? My morning after etiquette is fucking ridiculous man, I'm the shit friend here." You laugh, bumping your head on his shoulder and making him laugh more.

The two of you calm down after a short while, sitting in moderate silence again before Dave says, "This is so fucked up, Karkat." and your heart stops again.

"Yeah." You agree, "But that's basically a short summary of our lives up until this point, isn't it?"

"Accurate man. You wanna go hang out with the others before we turn this reunion into a cryfest complete with you freaking out because your tears are clear?" He asks, and you smile at him as he meets your gaze with his own. All you have to do is nod.

On the way to the coffee shop - after five text exchanges with Rose demanding to know what kept you so long - you speak up a small but prominent worry.

"Are we still-"

"Yeah, Karkat," He sighs, shoving you towards the next lamp post you pass, "We're still bros."


	6. Human Immune Systems Are A Pile Of Wank

6

The last three weeks have blurred past. You haven't been to a single meet, you're tired, you're behind in all your coursework and your mother is fuming, and on top of all that, the winter has brought out your awful immune system and you feel like absolute candy-coated shit. You're sat in your room with a blanket over yourself, pulled up over your head as you sit up at your desk, furiously trying to organise your Art coursework into something vaguely presentable for the hand-in date on Monday. It's currently Friday night and this is exactly how you plan to spend your entire weekend. The meet is still on for tomorrow, but you'll have to miss this one, too, even though Sollux is starting to get upset about how many you're ditching out on; it can't be helped.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but when you wake up you're curled up on the computer chair, blanket still over you and half on your face. You're barely conscious as you move to your bed, aware of the dawnlight threatening to stream through the gap in your curtains. You remove your shirt and jeans, falling back to sleep in your boxers, warm under your duvet.

When you wake, it's suddenly, and with great urgency. You're fully awake by the time you're throwing up in the toilet, retching more at the sounds your contracting throat is making as burning sugar and acid makes its way up and out of your mouth. It tastes foul, and your head hurts as you bring up everything you've eaten and then just bile. You can barely breathe, folding your arms on the toilet seat and resting your forehead on them as you pant, reaching up to flush away the awful mixture in the water below. You don't care how near you are to the toilet, all you care about is the now-awful taste in your mouth and the want to cry. You don't think you've ever been this ill in your life, in either of your lives.

Your phone is going off back in your room - you can hear it; but you can't answer it right now, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall adjacent to the toilet. It'll have to wait. Looking up at the clock you can see it's about midday.

You barely choke out a response when your mother shouts your name up the stairs, but she doesn't follow it up with anything. She was probably just checking you were awake; at least, that's what you thought before you hear her tell someone to "go right on up" and the tapping of light footsteps alerts you to someone coming towards you. The door, kicked partially shut, is pushed open by none other than Dave Strider, wrapped up in a red jacket and a black scarf and gloves, looking down at your position on the floor with what could almost pass as concern.

"Human immune systems are a pile of wank." You say helplessly, and he just shakes his head at you, taking off his gloves and scarf and kneeling down in the doorway. If you reached out you could touch him. You bet he's nice and cool and your face, your arms, your legs are burning. You're sat on the floor of your bathroom in your underwear next to the toilet and Dave is just sat there ilooking at you/i.

Dave stands, then, walking the few steps over to you and offering his hand, "No social gatherings for you today. Come on we'd better get you to bed."

He seems to realise what he's said as it comes out of his mouth, but instead of doing the awkward apologetic stumbling, he smirks and wiggles his eyebrows over the top of his shades. You'd hit him if you were healthier.

You manage to stand, shakily, and stumble back towards your room. Dave stays close behind you for the short journey, forces you to climb into bed; essentially tucking you in. You're too tired to even bother questioning it, you know he's always been a bit overprotective of his friends but he'll never admit it so what's the point in bringing it up?

"I'm gonna let your mom know you're not well." He says, starting back towards the door.

"She knows, it's why she sent you up instead of calling me down." You sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, "She always knows."

Dave smiles, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

"Besides, she'll be heading out in a bit." You point out.

"Where to?"

"Her dad's, visiting him over in Cali for a week."

"I hope you know that means I'm crashing here right?" He says, leaning backwards and cracking his spine before turning to you.

"I don't know if that's a good-"

"Nah man listen." He interrupts you, turning himself and half-sitting on the bed facing you, his knee briefly makes contact with your thigh through the duvet, "I'll stay here and make sure you don't die. I'll sleep on the couch if I have to, we can order chinese," He leans forwards, clutching at his heart and faking a sob, "I'll sit through a shitty romcom movie marathon if I must."

He looks at you over the top of his shades.

"I didn't turn up here for nothin' Karkat."

"Why did you turn up?"

"To make you socialise. If this is the only way I can do that so be it."

You pause, looking around, "You don't have any clothes with you."

"Bag's downstairs. Was on the way back from visiting my aunt when Sollux called to say you hadn't shown up iagain/i."

"Not my fault I've been busy!" You practically growl, sitting up and feeling your head throb, "And it isn't like any of them made an effort past calling me over and over again!"

Dave shooshes you, then, in a manner that reminds you far too much of your old life. His hand is cool on your warm forehead and he pushes you back down to the pillows, otherwise keeping his distance. You may be human but it still works, you can feel the anger ebbing away, moving back into your mind as your breathing steadies.

You're too warm, it's too warm and Dave's so cold but he's all the way over there and you don't want him any closer but you really do because fuck he's cold. So perfectly, perfectly cold and you lean up into his hand.

"Shit Karkat you're burning up."

"It's too warm I hate this."

Dave leans back, you watch him through tired eyes as he seemingly contemplates his next move.

"I could go get some ice, or... uh..." He trails off, pressing his fingers to his palms as if trying to test the density of his hands. He looks at you and then to your laptop, perched on your desk with the fan blasting away to itself, "you wanna watch a film?"

"Not really," you answer honestly, "I'm meant to be doing my art coursework but I kinda gave up on it..."

"Fuck coursework. Look, it's gonna sound really weird but you're really warm and I'm so not, so would it be too much for you if I sat behind you and tried to cool you down a little?"

You shake your head, feeling that it's okay to do so despite the headache threatening to split it open. Dave kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, letting you sit up before sliding in behind you, his legs either side of your waist and his chest to your back. He's blissfully cold and you almost, almost whimper when he puts his hands over your forearms.

You're colder, but only your top half, and fuck no you are not asking him to hook legs with you that's too much too fast for all the wrong reasons. He's humming a quiet tune, tapping out the beat on your arms. You can feel the tired sickness setting in again as you fall back to sleep.

When you wake, you're alone in the bedroom. You can hear noise from downstairs and you panic for a moment because you know your mother would have left by now, but then you remember Dave is a person that exists and you slump back down on the pillows. You're not as warm as you were, but you're still not cool enough. You smile at that thought, making your own personall joke about how a self-proclaimed coolkid had to come and cool you down. Made you chill. You're such a loser.

You force yourself to get up and out of bed, as comfortable as it was. You find the nearest tshirt - which happens to be the plain black tshirt you'd painted the cancer sign on a few years ago - and headed downstairs. Your head didn't hurt as bad, but you were hungry. Starving, actually, and you weren't sure what foods you could possibly eat and keep down.

You find Dave just outside the back door, shadeless and smoking one of those stupid shisha-pen-e-cigarette things and give him a questioning look.

He notices you looking and rolls his eyes "Better taste and no lung cancer, fight me."

You don't reply vocally, just turning to look at it. You think maybe you might get one one day, if your asthma gets any worse, but until that day you're happy with your actual cigarettes - nothing you have ever tried beats the burning in your lungs on a cold day. You hate the fact you smoke, but goddamn it you've started and you are no quitter.

Dave holds the pen out to you, raising an eyebrow. He shows you how to work it, push the button and suck on it "more like a dick than a cigarette"

"People usually say straw."

"People usually don't sass me."

You give him a pointed glare before taking the pen from him, inhaling the surprisingly strong, apple flavoured steam and almost, ialmost/i coughing.

He smiles, "Takes some getting used to. Flavours are nice though."

You leave him to it, going back into the kitchen to look for food and finding absolutely nothing. You order chinese.


	7. The Worst Mix

7

The week blurs past, you go in on Monday to hand in your coursework and then go straight home again to throw up in your bathroom, taking the entire week off despite the fact you're pretty much done vomiting up your stomach lining by Wednesday morning. Dave stays over, sleeps on the couch, orders dinner. It's like being back on the meteor when the girls were too busy for you both.

The next Saturday you wake up in your room, the morning light infiltrating your eyes through your open curtains. You're one hundred percent sure you closed them before going to bed. You're also sure you don't usually have a hot cup of coffee on your bedside table when you wake up, but there it is. You yawn, stretching and clicking every joint in your shoulders and back as you do so and banging your hand on the wall, as is customary. It stops hurting after the fifty-third time.

You drink the coffee as you dress, finishing it just before tying your shoelaces. It's good coffee, better than you make it usually and miles better than your mother makes it. You head downstairs slowly in the jeans-and-black-shirt combination you managed to pull out of your wardrobe. entering the kitchen and placing the empty mug in the sink.

"Mornin'."

You don't even turn around to reply, knowing Dave is sat up on the counter pretending he likes reading the newspaper, despite the fact there are four perfectly good chairs and a table in here. "Morning."

You can almost hear the amusement in his voice when he announces, "We leave in 5."

You turn at that, looking at him - he's dressed and ready to go, black jeans, red hoodie zipped up, shoes on. He's even got his bag there on the counter top with him and his shades on for only the second time since he arrived at yours.

"What?" You ask, unsure of what he's on about - you were planning on going out today, sure, but you didn't tell him you were planning on dragging him to the record store today, it was a surprise...

He looks up from the paper, folding it in half. "We're going to see the guys, you miss any more meetups Sollux is going to skin you alive."

You groan loudly and pointedly, exaggerating a somewhat Shakespearean death as you fall to your knees on the kitchen floor, "iPlease/i don't make me go, I'll do ianything./i"

"No you won't. Go get your phone."

You sigh, dragging yourself up off the floor and back upstairs to get a jacket, your phone and your wallet. Dave is waiting silently and patiently by the door when you return.

The train ride is eerily quiet, the only sound between the two of you is Dave tapping rhythmically along to a song only he can hear. You try and distract yourself, try and figure out why you don't want to go to this meetup. Dave seems distracted too, but by something less trivial and more... you want to say sinister? He has this dark look on his face, in his eyes when he tilts his head low enough for you to see them. He knows something you don't, and that fact alone is making you nervous. Your stomach is churning, your palms are sweaty and your head hurts. Your heart thumps angrily against your chest, seemingly trying to compete with Dave's rhythmic tapping, and you swear you're going to go insane or break down or isomething/i...

But then Dave notices you, sat there with your hands twisting on your lap trying your best to breathe, and he's sat next to you instead of opposite you and he's talking, you can hear him but you want to hit him.

"Hey Karkat, you okay man?" "What's wrong?" "Karkat come on man you feeling okay?" "You gonna be sick?" It's one question after another, and you can barely answer.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, just... motion sickness I guess... how long til our stop?"

He looks unconvinced, "Next one."

You nod, he goes back to his original seat.

The station is practically empty and the walk to the park is too long. You need to know why you feel so nervous, you need to get it over with. Dave's glancing at you every few seconds, telling you look a bit pale and asking if you're alright. You say yes, tell him to fuck off. He tells you you're having an early night tonight and you come up with a particularly creative insult involving three sheets of acetate and a blender; and then you're there. The park is right around this corner.

You turn, looking for them. They're not there.

The park is empty.

You look at Dave. He's still walking. You follow him, confused. You look at your phone. It's midday, you've got no missed calls or texts.

iThe park is empty./i

Dave sits down on the bench, leaning his elbows on his knees and waiting for you to join him. You do, sitting next to him a bit too far away to be considered social. He says nothing. You say nothing. You sit and look into the empty park for a full twenty minutes, saying nothing, neither of you looking at your phones or eachother.

You turn to look to the pathway you came from, expecting to see others enter the park any minute now.

You're panicking now, the unease in your stomach knotting it tighter, pulling at your nerves and making you twitchy, every sound could be someone coming to see you. None are. You turn to Dave, still sat, hunched over and staring at the ground, now.

"Dave where is everyone? Why are we the first ones here?"

He shakes his head. You growl, primal and deep. He looks up, surprised at the first troll-like thing you've done since meeting him in this world. You ask him again. He's looking at you, can't ignore you this time.

He sighs, about to talk just as his phone buzzes, he pulls out his phone and clicks a few buttons before reading from the screen, reflected oddly in his shades, "From Sollux, to everybody. Today's meet has been cancelled due to a lack of interest in actually turning up. You're all assholes. See you next weekend or I'll hack and break all of your computers, assuming I can be bothered."

The knot in your stomach unclenches, leaving only the sickness. Part of that lack of interest was you and you know it. You wonder who else has been ditching out.

"Makes sense," Dave says resignedly, "Eridan stopped showing up because of that new girlfriend of his. Rose and Kanaya kept going off by themselves and not talking to anyone else, John wasn't there last week because he couldn't be bothered. Obviously we had an excuse so don't look like that, you walking pity party, come on. You were ill."

iNot the weeks before that, I wasn't/i, you want to say, but you keep quiet, letting him go on and on about Sollux's angry texts over the past week and a half. You can't help feeling guilty.

The two of you go to the café down the street, sitting in and ordering coffee and lunch. Dave's silent, looking out at the other people in the room, couples at tables, businessmen sat alone with laptops, teenagers around your own age sat staring into phones or books. You look out of the window, noticing the darkening sky. Just as you think it looks like it's going to rain, and you turn to voice this thought to Dave, the pitter-patter of water against the glass begins, little droplets collecting and joining, making liquid veins across the window pane. Your breath against the glass begins to show more easily with the drop in temperature.

The people sat outside gather their belongings, moving to the few empty tables left in the dry warmth of the café itself, Dave smiles at a few of them, exchanging glances that roughly translate to "fucking typical" as he shakes his head softly at the rain outside. You never took him for such a people person, sat there in his hoodie and sunglasses when it is raining outside and the darkness of the clouds is causing the streetlights to come on two hours early, even for winter.

Your phone begins buzzing against your leg, snapping you out of your thoughts as you struggle to remove it from your pocket, it's your mother calling. You slide the green phone icon across, greeting her quietly to indicate you're in a place with people.

"Hey mom."

"Karkat sweetie I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" Her voice floats down the phone, so familiar and heartwarming and yet still so strange.

"No, no, just sat in a café with Dave." He flashes you a quick grin and tells you to say hi from him, you flip him off, "He says hi."

She laughs, "Well tell him I say hello right back! I'm staying here one more night, and I'll be home tomorrow afternoon, are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah that's fine, I can manage." You find yourself smiling, and Dave's still grinning at you. You want to hit him.

"See you tomorrow honey, love you!"

"You too, mom. Seeya."

You hang up and look at Dave, a plain "what?" clearly visible in your expression.

"You with your mom, it's adorable."

"Shut the fuck up."

You watch the rain outside, forming puddles in the uneven paths and roads, on the now-abandoned seats outside the small café. You were terrified of her at first, this woman claiming to be your mother, and while your memory when you woke up was that of a human male with a life in this world, you knew something was wrong. You knew this wasn't you. You thought you were crazy, that maybe you were going through some kind of phase where you didn't feel like yourself.

But then you remembered.

You look over to Dave, his face half blocked by those aviators - a much better fit on his face now than they were when he was thirteen. If he raises his eyebrows you can see them, if you catch the slightly mirrored black lenses in the right light you can see his eyes through them.

"Ready to go?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your jacket over yourself and zipping it. You hand Dave the money for your own order and he goes to the counter to pay before you exit, opening the door into the lashing rain.

It soaks you through within minutes; you're walking close together, you with your collar pulled up and Dave with his hood half-shielding his white-blonde hair. His shades are covered in constantly running droplets and he keeps reaching up to wipe them off, as if his sleeve were the least convenient windscreen wiper in history. Your hair is drenched, clinging to your forehead. The rain isn't as cold as it usually is, which makes you think that maybe there's a storm on the way. You wonder if it'll reach you back home.

"Maybe we'll dry off on the train." Dave voices to you, wiping the droplets from his glasses again, "These fucking things I swear"

"Just take them off you dumbass."

"No."

"Nobody gives a shit about your eyes."

"I do."

You scoff, rolling your own near-identically coloured eyes and glaring off towards the station, within sight now.

The train journey is long and silent, you're tired - more tired than you've been in a while and you've got too much to think about once you finally get home. You feel hurt, almost, let down by those not willing to turn up, while guilty for being one of them yourself. It's painful, trying to distinguish those two feelings, you wish you didn't have either of them. You wish you didn't want to be back in that café with Dave instead of on this long, silent journey back home.

When you get home, Dave tells you he's just got a text from his brother and he's needed back tonight. He doesn't say anything else about it and you don't ask; whatever, your figure, you can find some way to occupy your own time until your mother gets back tomorrow.

You chat comfortably in the kitchen until Dave's phone goes off at around 7.

"Hey, yeah just coming out now." He says, to the person you assume is his brother. He hangs up and turns to you, "Aaron's outside in the car, gotta run."

"Who's Aaron?" You ask, confused.

He pauses mid-way through chucking his bag over his shoulder, continuing and not looking up as he speaks, "Bro's friend, no big deal. He's giving me a lift back."

Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you hug him goodbye and walk him out. There's a tall man with slight stubble and browny-black hair stood by a car on the other side of the road, texting. He waves at Dave enthusiastically, glancing at you stood in the doorway. He's attractive. Shit.

You make Dave promise to message you when he gets home, he playfully makes you promise to reply. You fake smiles and happy goodbyes until the car is out of sight, at which point you turn angrily back into your house and slam the door behind you.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long night.


	8. Lifeline

8

TA: well ii thiink iit'2 2afe two 2ay you liike hiim, kk.  
CG: HELL NO.  
CG: THAT SHITSNIFFING NOOKSTAIN CAN ROT IN HELL FOR ALL I CARE.

Despite the fact you'd grown used to typing "normally", you couldn't bring yourself to ignore your old quirk when talking to Sollux, it just didn't feel right.

TA: 2eriiou2ly?  
TA: you're 2tiill u2iing troll iin2ult2?  
CG: SERIOUSLY?  
CG: YOU'RE STILL USING YOUR HEADACHE-INDUCING TYPING QUIRK?  
TA: 2ay2 you, mii2ter 2hout2-alot.  
CG: I DON'T USE IT ALL THE FUCKING TIME THOUGH.  
CG: ONLY REALLY WHEN I TALK TO YOU, I GUESS?  
CG: See? This is much less painful.  
TA: 2hiit who changed that liittle habiit, then?  
TA: let me gue22...  
TA: 2triider?  
CG: Dear god never type his name again that is awful.  
TA: 2triider.  
TA: .  
CG: Fuck you.  
TA: iif you don't liike me butcheriing your boyfriiend'2 name maybe you 2hould a2k me niicely two stop.  
CG: I'd rather shove a culling fork in my think pan.  
TA: NEIITHER OF THO2E ARE THIING2 THAT ARE REAL ANY MORE, KK.  
TA: GET WIITH THE FUCKIING PROGRAMME.  
CG: Alright whatever.  
CG: If you're going to spend this whole conversation being a loaded A22HOLE then fine.  
CG: ii'm going two bed.  
TA: god  
TA: even after all the2e year2  
TA: you're 2tiill a fuckiing chiild.

\- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] at 02:16-

You breathe out, closing your crimson eyes briefly against the bright light of your monitor screen.

\- carcinoGeneticist [CG} began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] at 02:19 -

CG: That was pathetic.  
CG: I'm sorry.  
CG: I just don't know what to do.  
TA: maybe 2tart at the begiinniing?  
TA: then ii can guiide you through thii2 liike the wiiggler you are.  
CG: I guess...  
CG: I don't actually know?  
CG: It was all just casual and having him back in my life at first.  
CG: Someone I could take the rise out of without worrying too much about hurting his feelings.  
CG: But then it had to go and get complicated.  
TA: 2ound2 two me liike you're tryiing two hard two make thii2 a troll thiing?  
TA: liike you're not built for a kii2me2ii2 now kk you know that riight  
TA: you're human now  
CG: You don't have to keep reminding me.  
CG: I'm fucking aware of that.  
TA: 2eem2 liike you could do wiith the remiinder 2ometiime2.  
TA: two keep you beiing you.  
CG: ...  
CG: Maybe I don't want to be me?  
TA: you've never wanted two be you.  
TA: that'2 ju2t a fact of liife.  
TA: karkat vanta2 hate2 hiim2elf.  
TA: like 2ollux captor'2 a piiece of 2hiit  
TA: dave 2triider'2 a hiip2ter douche  
TA: terezii pyrope'2 weiird ta2te fetii2h tran2cends both renewed uniiver2e2 and renewed 2iight  
TA: we all have our 2hiit kk.  
CG: I guess you're right.  
CG: I just didn't realise this is what it was going to be.  
TA: what do you mean?  
CG: Nothing I guess.  
CG: Thanks Sollux  
CG: Sorry I flipped out at you  
TA: no problem man ii'm u2ed two iit.  
TA: go to 2leep  
CG: Yeah  
CG: Goodnight.  
TA: niight

\- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] at 02:35 -

You shut down your laptop feeling heavier than you've ever felt. You don't like this feeling, it's like you're suffocating in yourself.

You see your reflection looking at you in the dark windowpane. So pale, so weak... That's not you. That will never be you again. You have to sit in this pale meatsuit, dying your hair and worrying about human bullshit for the rest of your days.

You'll never get to see yourself mature, not really. You'll never get to grow into the adult troll you were going to be - create a new world for your race where your blood was a nice normal colour. You're even upset that you never got to apply to be a threshecutioner, even if you would have been culled on sight.

None of that is a thing that matters anymore.

Trolls don't exist.

You walk over and shut your curtains, your eyes hot and your limbs aching. You can hear your breathing starting to stagger, your lungs refusing to give you enough air. You try and breathe, try and calm down as you grip the curtains with both of your hands - weak, blunt nails barely denting the fabric your claws could have torn through.

You're weak.

Defenseless.

Anyone could come in here and attack you and you would have no chance of defending yourself, defending your family, defending your friends.

You're useless.

You want to go back to your bed before the thoughts get worse but you can feel yourself dropping already. You're locked in your head, far at the back while your emotions, your delusions - the things you iknow/i to be delusions but can't fight off because they're itrue/i and you know it... You're on the floor, one hand weakly clutching your curtain before it drops to the floor and it feels like you're being pushed into the ground. You can barely breathe, barely see through your horrifyingly clear tears. You reach up to your head, choking out a sob when you find nothing but your thick hair protruding from where your horns should be. You remember Dave's hands there and you sob again, ribs and throat shaken by each breath you take, each cry of distress. You're so angry with yourself for crying but you can't stop; you're exhausted by every movement, by the tension in every muscle in your body as your try to curl in on yourself, meeting resistance from your other limbs and continuing to pull yourself in until you're sure you're going to fold in on yourself and stop existing.

The most painful thing then is the fact you wouldn't mind dying.

The tension leaves your limbs and you lay there on the floor, limp, curled inwards on your side unable to disappear - hands by your face as you glare at them for being the wrong shape, the wrong colour, so iweak/i. You're so weak. You're laying on your bedroom floor crying and if that isn't just ipathetic/i you're not sure what it. No wonder he doesn't want you, you're a disgrace.

You're still crying, your heart and lungs and ieverything aches/i.

You still wouldn't really mind dying.

iThere's nobody home, nobody would know./i

Until your mother came home tomorrow...

iBut by then it would be too late for her to stop you.../i

It would break her...

You can't do it. You're too weak to even rid the world of your pitiful existence and ioh god that word still hurts you in unimaginable ways/i. You can't do anything, you're terrified to die but it's the only thing you might be good at, the only gift you could give to the people who've put up with you for so long.

You know that's a stupid thought, and that's the worst thing. You're locked in the back of your mind listening to yourself think these horrible things and you can't do anything to stop your imagination because you're ijust too fucking weak/i.

You have to stop yourself, you're being stupid, you're not weak, plenty of people would miss you if you died and you know that and hearing yourself disregard all of their feelings is just so ipainful/i - you can't pretend it wouldn't hurt them because of course it would, but your mind won't listen. Your body convulses painfully with each breath, torn between healthy logic and your delusional mind. You don't know what to think. You want it to stop.

You choke out another sob; teeth gritted and bared as you turn your face into your carpet, the rough material scratching at your sensitive skin. Your nose is running, your eyes are leaking, you're so, iso tired/i and right now is the weakest you have been in your entire life. You barely have the energy to curl up again but you do, clutching your head in your hands, pulling painfully at your white roots and trying to regulate your breathing. Every breath you take isn't enough to steady your aching lungs and you're so tired...

You're always so tired. You spend most of your life sleeping, now, as opposed to your old life where you spent most of it wishing you were sleeping. No matter what, you wake up tired; you could get 4 hours, 8 hours, 16 hours of sleep and you would wake up exactly the same.

You wonder, laying on your floor trying desperately to stop existing, why you even bother.

You sleep so much and it does nothing. You wake up late for everything, now, after so long of being early. You once bragged of never being late to a social occasion, and now you're late for them all because you wake up worse than when you went to bed and immediately go back to sleep, hoping and praying to return to that black abyss for a few more minutes.

Maybe... Maybe it's not wanting to sleep, though...

...Maybe it's just not wanting to wake up?

You stop, breathing shakily as you open your eyes to look out into your room. Your bed, desk and bookshelf visible in the dusty light of your lamp. Your room is small, untidy; it's suffocating in here. You're stunted, no room to breathe, no room to move. You're small and weak and you are doing nothing about it because why should you bother? Why should anyone bother with you when you do nothing for yourself?

iWhat do you have to wake up for?/i


	9. Reality

Today doesn't feel real.

You sit on the carpet in Sollux's living room, holding his spare xbox controller and staring at the screen as he kills you for the fifteenth time that round. You absently run your thumbs over the analogue sticks.

"Come on Karkat this isn't any fun if you don't at least try and run away..." Sollux sighs, pressing pause and tossing his controller to the other side of the couch, "What's up?"

"I don't know." You say honestly, "I was fine and now I'm not."

"Alright that's it I can't take your moping, we're going into town. Get your coat."

You like the part of town where Sollux lives; it reminds you of those old family shows where an ice cream van goes past every day and nobody finds bodies in the lake down the park. Children actually ride their bikes outside, here, actually on the road without worrying about someone swerving to hit them. It's surreal.

"Alright so I'm thinking we just wander around for a bit, seeing as we have no actual plan," Sollux says, pushing up his sleeves as he walks, "unless there's anywhere you wanna go?"

You manage to spend the whole day pretending you're not falling apart at the seams, which shocks even you. Sollux is careful to keep you preoccupied and cheerful, dragging you into stupid shop after stupid shop and buying you a milkshake as you pass the parlour. You don't question him, you don't see the need to.

After wandering for a couple of hours and watching Sollux try and work out how the changing room system works when there aren't locks on the door, you make a stop in at the pet store. You smile as you find the stupidest, most purple fish you can find and buy it - you promised, after all - carefully cradling the little water-filled bag the whole way back to the bus station.

"You're such a fucking loser." Sollux points out, nodding at the vacant looking fish in your hands before giving you a short one-armed hug. Your bus is pulling in. "Text me when you get back. I'd hate to think someone got the chance to run you over before me."

"Charming." You state, "Get the fuck out of my sight."

You grin at him, silently thanking him for today. He understands, he always does.

When you get home, you find an old vase lying around in your kitchen and fill it with water, taking it upstairs with you and transferring the fish and his water over into his temporary home. You should probably get a real fish tank, but this will do. He's one of those weird fish that presses up against the side and eats the algae, so you figure you don't really need a filter for a while.

The day passed you in a blur, almost. You're not sure you're comfortable with how little you actually remember of it. It seemed too short to be a justifiable day spent with your best friend, but you know you've been out for hours. You feel your vision blurring slightly as a pressure-filled headache threatens to descend. You close your eyes and will it away.

It's only 8pm but you go to bed anyway, exhausted in several ways as you bury yourself as far into your covers as you can. They don't feel real either. Your hand against your arm feels like someone else's hand and your head feels as though it might fall from your neck at any moment. The screen of your phone lights up just as you drift off. You ignore it.


	10. One Hundred (an Ao3 Kudos celebration)

One hundred.

It's a really big number, when you think about it. Sure, you can count to it in under a minute if you're quick enough, but have you ever held a hundred things in your hands? You don't think you ever have. One hundred is what you learn in preschool, one hundred becomes your limit for the longest years of the beginning of your life, some unreachable goal in the furthest reaches of your mind, an incapability for your tiny hands. One hundred, the slower you say it, the bigger the number seems.

You're currently looking at one hundred flowers of varying shapes, sizes and colours, and you're starting to feel dizzy.

"Karkat come on it doesn't take that long, just pick some fucking flowers so we can go."

You close your eyes and sigh, blinking them back open and looking along the flowers again, "I have to choose the right ones."

"She's your mom, she won't care if you choose shit ones," Dave reasons, "Look, there, what are those ones?"

"Lillies, man. Fuck off, they're funeral flowers."

Dave groans loudly but you take no notice, he agreed to come with you to find a birthday present for your mother, so he can fucking deal with how long it's taking you to pick some flowers. You look along the colours, wishing they were organised in some way - you want to go for summery colours, warm colours. You lean towards a bouquet that reminds you of a sunset and pick them up. You turn them in your hands, the plastic around them crinkling weirdly against your skin. You're feeling it more than you usually would.

You get this weird sense as Dave pushes your lower back towards the cashier and says "alright, perfect, go pay" - a sense of the air you're breathing being clearer and colder, your clothes against your skin seem more real, the thud of your shoes on the floor as you turn to glare at your friend. You're seeing clearer, everything's sharper and more real. You know this feeling, but you can't place it. It's gone as fast as it comes and you're back to normal, paying for the flowers and thanking the lady behind the desk when she wraps them and boxes them for you without you having to ask.

"Coffee time!" Dave cries out with a sense of a man who has been on a mandatory caffeine-free diet for years and is about to have his first sip of freedom. You roll your eyes and shepherd him towards the most hipster café you can remember being in this part of town, the one that used to be a diner before going under and getting taken over by herbal tea drinking, weed smoking douchebags who run their till system exclusively on their Macbook Pros.

"Alright," You say, sitting down at the table nearest the big open window and waiting for Dave to sit down opposite you, "So I've got flowers, what the fuck else am I meant to get her?"

"I dunno man I don't have a mom," He reminds you casually and you look up to the ceiling, praying to the questionable stain up there that he stops being a dick for five minutes, "You could just like, leave it at the flowers and then bake her a cake or something? Cook her dinner? Actually tidy the fucking house for once?"

You hum, thinking. She'd definitely appreciate all that crap, you suppose... "You just want to go home already, don't you?"

He grins, "You got me, I'm tired. When can we go?"

"You're the one who agreed to come out with me, asshole." You point out before taking a sip of your drink, wincing at the sharpness of it. Dave pushes the pot of sugar packets towards you.

"I just don't get why you're so into getting presents for people," Dave admits, shrugging and cupping his hands around his drink as he turns to look out of the window, "seems like you're getting a bit too obsessed with what she'll think. She'll love whatever you get her man, she's your mom."

"Exactly," You say, continuing when he turns to face you again, "I haven't had this before. Every birthday matters, every holiday matters. She's my mom."

"Oh," He says, letting the word drop from his mouth as his face softens. You glare at him and he cranes his neck to look back out of the window, searching the street outside for any person of remote interest.

You love this café, as shitty as it is. You know it's a little cliché to prefer the small hipster coffee shops to places like Starbucks but it's cheaper, cleaner and the only macbook in sight is the one the cashier is no doubt currently writing his film studies dissertation on. You turn your coffee cup, looking at the small logo with fond regard; small off-black text reading i'Hundred Heaven Café'/i in a thin banner surrounding a sepia tone planet Earth. You close your eyes and breathe in the steam as Dave's leg bumps yours under the table and when you open your eyes that feeling's back, the feeling of everything being real, of being more iaware/i than before. You're aware of the skeleton beneath your skin and muscles, of your eyes becoming dry in the heat rising from your cup. You look up and you can see the light from outside glinting off of Dave's shades, the rise and fall of his throat as he swallows. You can feel your own throat move as you repeat the action yourself, the palms of your hands tightening on the small white mug. You click your back, blinking a couple of times and following Dave's line of sight out of the window. He's looking at a medium sized, chunky black-and-tan dog on the other side of the road; you think it might be a rottweiler. It's sat patiently outside the shop opposite you, waiting for its owner to return. Nobody walking past is paying it any attention. When the owner exits the shop he pats the dog on the head, calling it to follow him. It does. They disappear from view.

"Home after this?" You suggest, nodding to Dave's mug.

"Best idea ever." Dave smiles, turning his attention back to the latte between his hands and you sat infront of him.

-

"Now I'm not saying you're wrong," You begin, opening the door of your house and letting Dave in first, "but you're definitely not fucking right."

"Excuse you, Bruce Willis is a brilliant actor."

"I'm not saying you're wrong on that front, I'm saying they should have stopped making iDie Hard/i movies while they were still igood/i."

"They're all good!" Dave cries out, arms out in pleading as he turns in the hallway. You close the front door, "Every single one is good!"

"No, that's where you're wrong. We're not doing a iDie Hard/i marathon, and that's that." You say, heading upstairs and smiling as you hear Dave sigh and follow you, you make a peace offering, "You can pick any of my movies though!"

Dave makes a pained choking noise and pretends to fall down halfway up the stairs, clearly expecting you to stop and help him, which you do not. You're in your room for a full five minutes trying to clear a space to place your laptop so it's visible before you hear anything, it just happens to be the front door opening, followed by a simple question asked in motherly tones.

"Dave sweetheart, why are you laying on the stairs?"

"Karkat left me here to die," He explains simply, "so I'm accepting my fate."

You hear her lean on the bannister, calling up, "Karkat don't leave Dave here to die!"

"He can die where he wants, I invited him up!" You call back, laughing as Dave appears in your doorway with an embarassed look on his face, "Smooth move, asshole. Pick a movie."

You put on films in the background as you talk. You draw out a card for your mother (which Dave insists on signing, too) and make an envelope to fit it in out of the coloured card you keep in your desk. You make a plan of what you're going to do both this evening once she's gone to bed, and tomorrow morning before she wakes up. You don't have decorations or anything, and when you mention this to Dave he waves you off, telling you he can sort something out. You trust him, though you don't know why he's doing anything to help you out; obviously because he's your friend and your mother loves him, but still... You place the envelope ontop of the flower box and lay back on your bed, swinging your legs up and behind where Dave is sat sketching next to you.

You sigh and lean back against your covers, pulling pillows up behind your head so you can see the laptop screen and watching the film as the sound of the slow, deliberate scratching of pencil on paper fills the room.

"Hey, Karkat?"

You look up at Dave, leaning back with one hand on the other side of your legs as his own dangle over the edge of your bed. He hands you the piece of paper he's been drawing on, watching your face for a reaction. You hold the edge of the paper and turn it over in your hands, sitting up as the image fills your mind. He's drawn you, the troll you, looking just as pissed off as you always did; you're crouching with your sickle, teeth bared and eyes wide and wild as if you're about to pounce on something just out of view and tear it to shreds. He smiles at you, about to turn back towards the film when you put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. You know this is when you should go for it, this would be the perfect moment, but you can't. There are a hundred things you could do right now. You could launch yourself at him and he'd just take you and it would be perfect, but you can't bring yourself to do it. So you hug him instead, pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel every muscle moving under his shirt, how his arms tighten around your chest when you thank him. You don't linger too long, calling him a massive loser and shoving his shoulder as you grin at him playfully.

He calls you an over-emotional asshole and you flip him off, taking a sheet of paper from the pile he's got on his lap and fumbling around for a pencil. If he can draw you, you can draw him.


End file.
